Regret
by ScribblesTheVixen
Summary: As Voldemort sits in the Malfoy Manor, he gains some time to think about everything so far.


**A/N: This is for The International Wizarding School Championship and I highly recommend checking it out.**

**School: Mahoutokoro**

**Year: 3**

**Theme: Avada Kedavra**

**Prompts: Voldemort (Character)**

**WC: 1246**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Death.

It was something he lived for constantly. The thrill of the hunt was enough to drive him, but the screams and cries of his victims we even more pleasurable. Just to watch the very soul sucked out of their eyes was magnificent for him. And then to watch from afar as their lifeless husk of a body was mourned over made him laugh madly with glee. It filled his unquenchable thirst; his desire to reign supreme by taking down all that opposed him as swiftly as possible. It was everything he needed. That is, until recently.

Until recently, the Dark Lord had been planning a final assault that would guarantee victory and ultimate power. Until recently, the Dark Lord hadn't been able to take the time to actually sit down and think as he was now.

Sitting in the dark and erie Malfoy Manor, locked inside the large dining room with no one, not even Nagini, by his side, it was just him and his overbearing thoughts like when he had been little and in the orphanage.

Now, there had been many ideas and thoughts \ that had flooded his mind but none had struck him as hard as this one. And that was life.

It was in every living thing and it was what drove them. And, like others, he had a goal in life - to achieve ultimate power. It drove him to create an army that listened to his every will. It drove him to create plans that were fool proof. It even drove him to start a war. But the one thing that captured his attention was that it also drove him to destroy those who did and didn't stand in his way.

But how many lives had he taken to achieve his goal? Thousands? Maybe even millions. And how many families had he driven apart because not all of them believed he was doing the thing? Was he even doing the right thing?

For each life he took, he didn't just take it from them but from someone else as well. He took it from the person that may have cared for them as a friend, family member, or even something more. He made it so his victim was forced to leave something precious behind and he showed no mercy about it.

It didn't matter to him. Not even in the slightest. In his eyes, he was getting rid of anyone who posed a threat to him. He was defending his rightful place and the power he deserved.

Still, was that the way to go about it? To prove that he was the most powerful wizard in the world by destroying an innocent bystander. Was that what it took?

He sighed, long, stalky fingers reaching up to rub the nerves under his white forehead. His mind was overpowering his willpower and he hated it.

Yes, it was true he wanted power. He wanted domination and he was willing to do whatever it took to do so. He wanted people to cower; for them to never make fun of him again. He wanted to teach them the lesson that they had avoided for so long. He wanted revenge.

"But at what cost?" Dumbledore would say.

Voldemort sneered at the thought. That idiot of a Headmaster always had something to say for every situation. It was his way of convincing the person otherwise, to make them rethink their decision. It was to divert them from their goal, to stop them from persisting. It was stupid, and yet, the snake-like man found himself repeating the same thing. "But at what cost?"

His mind wandered over to just that.

At the cost of people who had done nothing wrong except be afraid? At the cost of a child who wouldn't get to grow up or at the cost of a woman who just wanted to nurture her family?

"Argh!" His fists, which had once been anxiously twisting and turning while holding his chin up, slammed down on the table with a thundering force that could have cracked it.

There were so many questions but not enough answers. He needed answers, but had no one who could provide them. Why? Why couldn't someone just tell him what to do? Why couldn't someone just guide him in the right direction? Why...why couldn't someone just love him they way he wanted?

His head ached more than ever, and rubbing at his temples more furiously didn't help either.

He didn't understand it anymore; why he was suddenly having doubts about everything and how far he'd come. It all seemed so confusing now.

A week ago, he'd been happy; content with conquering the wizarding world. But, now, all of a sudden, his conscious was acting up, pulling and twisting his mind into believing that his actions weren't right. And the worst part? He was pretty sure he was starting to believe it.

Huffing in anger, he brought his head to rest in cupped hands. He sucked in a small breath of air, then let it out. The process was repeated a few more times just to calm his agitated nerves.

Most people probably wouldn't believe him at this point, after everything he'd done, but he wanted so badly to take it all back. All of the pain and misery he'd caused; all the death that had transpired because of his quest for power. Everything. To just go back in time and fix all his mistakes. To go down a better path for that power. To not be full of hate. He would take it all back if it meant he could be shown a little bit of love- the one thing he craved for.

That wasn't so much to ask for, was it?

Suddenly, a loud, powerful knock bounced off of the door. His gaze snapped up, briefly taken out of his repeating thoughts while he answered.

"Yes?" The waver in his voice was noticeable and he wanted nothing more than to curse himself for it. In the end, though, he could only pray it hadn't been caught by whoever was on the other side.

"We are ready for you, my lord." they called in a monotone voice.

He froze almost immediately, the last word of one of his followers still sinking in. Lord; the title he'd work for was enough to partially throw away the doubt that had clouded his mind. For it was a title that represented the power he'd earned by setting down his foot and declaring his name. It was the title that his followers always recited when addressing him. It was a title that he had gone to such great lengths to earn. But not only was it _a _title, it was _his_ title and he was not ready to let go, not when he was this close.

"Right, of course." With his mind cleared and focused on the task at hand, he pushed his chair outwards and rose to his feet, black robes falling behind him in waves. It took him merely four long strides to reach the door, fingers slowly wrapping around the golden door handle. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding before pushing down and flinging it open just as his army, standing tall on proud, turned to face him and march of his signal. Just as he did so, a single thought entered his warped mind.

There was no going back now.


End file.
